


Failure

by hipbonesofChrist



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Death, Hurt, Other, timing, too late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipbonesofChrist/pseuds/hipbonesofChrist
Summary: Larry was too late.





	

“You have to do it now!” Larry screamed to Lancelot, who was still clutching the corroded tablet. “Please!”

A green shine crept farther up the gold, painting it black and useless. Teddy suddenly stilled, Sacagawea still beside him, face molded into a mask of misery. Ahkmenrah fell, hands weak, fingers curled and black with age. Octavius and Jed were nothing more than plastic, hands now inseparable.

“Time's run out!” the once-young pharaoh yelled, voice like rust and old papyrus.

And indeed it had, Larry realized. Indeed it had.

A sudden shudder ran through Lancelot, blue eyes losing their triumphant sheen just as a tremor moved through the rest of them. Akhmenrah collapsed to the ground, great king at last defeated, eyes milky and blind, face green and black splotched with mold.

“No!” Larry screamed a final time, running forwards as the blackness swallowed the tablet. It hit the ground, falling from the wax figure’s molded hand and Nick could see pieces of the once-golden metal cracking and flaking, a crack splitting down the center of the tablet.

Teddy tried to whisper something about sunshine.

Then it was over.

It was really over.

~~~

When the police investigated the next day they found a man and his son kneeling on the cold rooftop concrete, crying.

They were crying for friends, for family.

The boy wouldn't let go of two joined plastic figurines. The man was holding a stuffed monkey, cradling it and whispering that he was sorry, so sorry.

No one could explain why the Hun had the mummy's hand, or why Teddy Roosevelt and Sacagawea were embracing each other, faces glistening with painted-on tears.

The security guard and his son sat there crying, mourning, surrounded by dead friends, dead memories and dead hopes and dreams, dead love, dead family.

But the only things scattered around them were wax figures, plastic figurines, a dusty, stuffed monkey, and a skeleton already halfway crumbled to nothing, it's golden breastplate still glinting bright gold.


End file.
